Orian
by Crianza
Summary: The story of a young Eyrien Queen whose character was mentioned but not explored in Anne Bishops novels. The main story takes place after Witch unleashed her power to cleanse the realms. Rating subject to change. UPDATED! So sorry for the delay!
1. Prologue Part One

**Author's Note: **Hola people! This is a story about Orian, a young Eyrien Queen whose character is mentioned but not explored in _Queen of the Darkness_. In the beginning of the book, her family signs a contract to serve in Ebon Rih under the rule of Lucivar Yaslana. This is the untold story of her life after Witch unleashed her power to cleanse the blood. Hope you like it!

**Disclaimer: **The Black Jewels Trilogy and all of the characters mentioned in those magnificent books belong to Anne Bishop, and not, sadly, to me. The plot of this story, however, does belong to me, Crianza, just so you know!

**Prologue Disclaimer:** Part of theprologue of this story is a scene from Anne Bishop's _Queen of the Darkness_, but told from the point of view of two-year-old Orian. Some of the dialog is what appeared in the book, but everything else did not. Just incase you can't figure it out, it takes place on the coach ride from the service fair and the first night at SaDiablo Hall.

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**Prologue:**

Orian was very, very bored. For all her two years of practice at amusing herself, which usually entailed breaking things, screaming very loudly, and generally causing trouble, she couldn't think of anything of interest to do. Snuggling her stuffed wolf, Woofer, tighter to her chest, she let her eyes wander around the coach. It was mostly full of Eyriens, with a few people of other races sitting together across from her. One of the non-Eyriens, a man, smiled at her, and she grinned back. Even at a very small age, she had learned that a cute smile could charm just about any male alive. She took a few steps toward him, holding out her stuffed animal so he could see how neat it was.

"Woofer," she said, holding it up high so he could get a good look.

The man leaned towards her, admiring her toy. "That he is. What's his name?"

But she had already told him its name! Apparently he wasn't very bright. "Woofer." She said with a bit more emphasis, hugging the animal close. When he glanced with interest at the toy, her smile turned into a glare. Woofer was hers! She had better remind him. "Mine!"

"Right you are." Amusement danced in the man's eyes, but his gaze slid from her to something behind her. Slightly put off, Orian opened her mouth to say something cute to regain his attention, but she was cut off by her mother's terse reprimand.

"Orian, don't bother the Warlord." Her mother's hand settled on her shoulders and restrained her against her mother's stomach. She and the man talked some more, but Orian wasn't listening. Her attention had already wandered off, and she was now watching her father, who was gazing at the nice man she had been showing Woofer to with a strange expression on his face.

When he came over to them, she raised her arms up in a silent plea to be picked up, but he ignored her and instead herded her and her mother back to their seats. Aggravated with males in general, she set about trying to annoy her older brother, Alanar, by continuously pinching his arm. Unfortunately, she had never actually managed to make Alanar show any emotion besides resigned patience, and it seemed that she wasn't going to succeed in irritating him any time soon. In fact, instead of frowning and snarling like her father would have done, he picked her up and put her in his lap and smiled at her. Six-year old Alanar had the patience of a man five times his age, and then some. This did not bode well for Orian's future. She _hated_ patient males who gave her tolerant looks and didn't even react when she did something silly or made loud noises and such.

She pulled her wings in against her body and leaned against her brother, deciding to play with Woofer for the rest of the ride. Every once in a while, she tugged on her brother's arm and asked, "We there?" And every time he would shake his head no and give her that patient, brotherly smile that seemed to be the only expression he wore when she was in the room with him. Finally, after what seemed like forever and a day had passed, the big Eyrien man who had told them to get in the coach was ushering everybody off. When she opened her mouth to ask Alanar, "We there," he cut her off by saying, "No, not in Ebon Rih. But we're here…"

"What's 'here'?" she asked, brushing her wavy black hair out of her eyes so she could see better. The huge stone building that towered before them was the most imposing structure the two-year old had ever seen.

Shrugging, Alanar was about to tell her that he didn't know when he heard one of the men say, "SaDiablo Hall." When he repeated the name, she grinned up at him as if the name itself had made her happy, and quickly ran ahead, eager to explore. She didn't get very far, however, before her mother lifted her up and settled her on her hip.

"Behave yourself!" her mother whispered harshly in her ear, and because she was being held tightly enough that it was a struggle to breathe, she had no choice but to comply.

When they entered the building, the first thing she saw was a little boy flying high above them, giggling with mischievous glee. Squirming, she tried to get free of her mother's arms so she could play too, but Dorian had a tight grip and wasn't letting go. Orian settled for watching the big Eyrien chase the boy around the room, but when he was caught by a different, wingless man who he pummeled mercilessly, she giggled with wicked glee. After being returned to the Eyrien, he seemed to calm down a bit, at least until she grinned at him.

"Baby! Mine!" he yelled, struggling to get to her. A huge smile split her face, and she was about to start screaming to add to the fun when her mother squeezed her arm hard enough to turn the scream into a loud gasp.

"Shut up!" Dorian commanded under her breath, and Orian reluctantly complied.

A few minutes later, however, she and Alanar were taken from their parents, along with all the other children, and led to the nursery. Dinner was a messy, but filling, affair. It had been quite some time since Orian and Alanar had been able to eat their fill, so they stuffed themselves with a vigor that caused their caretakers to exchange a few worried glances. They were not the only ones shoving food into their mouths at a dangerously fast pace however, and the adults were forced to run from one child to another in a frenzy that amused the children so much that they ate with even more speed just to see how fast the women watching them could run.

There was nothing like a full stomach to put a child to sleep. Except in Orian's case, she was too excited to be tired. In the large playroom, she and Alanar played tag in the air, and soon all of the other children who could fly joined in. The adults were yelling at them to stop and come down for their baths, but being Eyrien, none of them were paying any attention.

"Puppy!" She yelled and pointed at the animal that had just stuck his head into the room. She tucked her wings against her and dived down towards the ground at a somewhat uncontrollable speed. The 'puppy' in question, a small brown and white dog, backed up slightly and let out a small, panicked whine. Orian landed gracelessly in front of him and fell back on her bottom. Normally she would have started crying, but she was too interested in the puppy to care. Grabbing onto his silky fur, she used him to hoist herself up from her position on the floor. He whined again, but leaned forward slightly to sniff her face. Orian giggled and began to pet him with a gentleness that belied her earlier, rougher contact with the sceltie. She held her stuffed animal up so he could see and said, "Woofer!" Letting out a soft bark and wagging his tail in response, he took a few steps closer and sniffed the little toy.

Behind her, many other children had gathered to look at the pretty dog, but she didn't want to share him with anyone. She had seen him first! She whirled around, the excited light of impending battle in her large, golden eyes. Unfortunatly, she didn't get to fight with anybody because a woman rushed over to her and swept her up into her arms. Orian squirmed mercilessly, but the woman wasn't letting go.

"_Ladvarian_…." The woman said sternly, and the dog tucked his tail and trotted out of the room. Orian heard her muttering something about idiotic furry beasts who couldn't follow even the most simple directions, but she didn't understand so she turned her full attention to getting out of the woman's grip. Sadly, two-year olds really couldn't compete with full-grown, adult muscle, so Orian was stuck. Shaking her head, the woman shouted something to the other adults and they began to round the children up. The girls were taken to one room, and the boys to another. Beds placed in neat rows lined the walls, all covered with large, overstuffed comforters.

On the other side of the room, a door opened up into a large bathroom with three tubs. Orian was carried there and made to stand still while her clothes were stripped off. Then the woman plunked her down in one of the huge basins and turned on the hot water. After being scrubbed within an inch of her life and dried quickly with a soft, fluffy towel, a large nightgown was pulled over her head and she was placed in one of the beds in the other room. Come to think of it, she _was_ kind of sleepy. After all, it had been a very big day. Before settling into the warm mattress, she yawned and stretched her wings, extending them to their full length and then folding them back down to her back. Then she lay down, closed her eyes, and pulled Woofer tight against her chest, and dreamed of pretty brown and white dogs that had Eyrien wings and played tag with her.

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**Important Side note: **Did anyone notice when they were reading _Queen of the Darkness _and _Dreams Made Flesh _that Orian's mother and Marian's mother share the same name? Do you think they had the same mother, or that it was just a coincidence? It can go either way, so input would be really appreciated! 


	2. Prologue Part Two

**Author's Note:** I was going to start with the main storyline after the last chapter, but something was missing, so I added a Part Two to the Prologue. Thanks so much for the reviews! 

**Disclaimer: **See Prologue (Part one)

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**Prologue Part Two**

_Ebon Rih - Riada_

Orian stood in the doorway of the cozy hut that had been her home for the past few months and looked up at the swirling gray sky with a small, innocent smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. The small house was only _temperturary_….or at least that's what she thought her father had called it. Soon, he had said, they would be in a real eyrie, but it was still being built, so they would live here until it was done.

Behind her, she could hear her mother saying something to Alanar, but she wasn't paying much attention. She would have to go back inside soon, but no one had noticed her absence yet, and she planned to make the most out of her few minutes of freedom. Hugging Woofer tightly to her chest, she stepped through the door and into the small garden behind the house, her gaze still locked on the battle that raged above her.

Most other children, even Alanar, were scared of storms, but she thought they were fun. After all, how often do big, shiny things hit the sky and make it go BANG? Yesterday, she had hit one of her mother's pans with enough force to leave a large dent, but for all she tried, she couldn't make a noise as loud as the shiny things could. When her mother had seen what she'd done, Dorian had shouted loud enough to make Orian's ears hurt. Orian had stared up at her mother in awe, wishing she could make a noise that loud. But it still wasn't as big as the bang the shiny things made, so she started screaming along with her mother to see if they could be that loud together. She had to stop when Dorian smacked her, though, because she couldn't see anything but black for a few minutes afterwards.

Now, in the early hours of the morning, she had a huge headache and a very sore eye, but when the distant rumble of thunder reached her ears, Orian giggled with gleeful anticipation and forgot all about her aching face. She walked farther into the garden and settled down next to a rosebush, tucking her legs underneath her and holding Woofer in her lap. The wind picked up slowly, at first only causing the leaves to dance on the trees in pretty waves. Soon, however, some of the plants were being ripped from the ground and those more sturdily anchored were bending over so far that they almost snapped in half. With the wind came a keening that seemed to rise from far below her. It was like nothing she had ever heard before.

Sure that she was going to be knocked over, she grabbed the nearest plant to anchor herself to the ground. Pain shot through her hand and she quickly let go of the rosebush. The wind did knock her down then, but she didn't really care. She was staring at her right hand with a mixture of childlike awe and fear. The fingers and the outer edges of her palm were covered in small scrapes that were barely bleeding. But in the center of her hand, blood was rushing from a tiny hole quickly enough to soak the sleeve of her shirt in just a few seconds. It was fascinating, and at the same time, very scary. Orian had never seen this much blood before, and it frightened her.

She opened her mouth to scream, but for some reason, no sound came out, or if it did, she couldn't hear it. Disgruntled, she tried again, and this time she screamed loud enough to make her throat sore, but the sound was ripped from her mouth before it could reach her ears. The wind, now strong enough to make her hut and the other homes around it shake and creak, was roaring loud enough to block out any other noise. Wind had always sounded sad to her, like it had lost its stuffed animal and was looking for it, but this one sounded happy too. Maybe it was happy because it had seen Woofer and wanted to take him! Well, Woofer was _hers_, and he wasn't going anywhere.

She hugged the toy wolf to her chest in a vice grip, determined that the wind wouldn't take him away. Thunder seemed to boom not above, but around her, which was odd because the shiny things were hitting the sky, not the ground. But she didn't let it bother her for long, because it was still thunder, and it was still loud enough to make her smile. She had never heard it make such an earsplitting noise before, and when combined with the howling wind, it was near deafening.

For some reason, she did not feel threatened by the storm. Normally, even though she liked the shiny things and the loud noises, she always felt somewhat afraid that maybe the shiny things weren't very nice and they were hurting the sky. Now, however, she felt like she was being cradled, protected maybe, and the shiny things were caressing the world, not hitting it.

After a time, the thunder didn't seem so menacing, and the wind didn't seem to want to take Woofer anymore. When she looked down at her hand, she could see the scratches and the hole where the thorn had punctured her skin, but most of the blood was gone. The wind must have blown it away. Even the pain in her head and hand seemed to dwindle into a dull, tolerable throb. But it still hurt, and Orian then did what children who are hurt always do. Slowly, her eyelids started to droop and her chest rose and fell in a leisurely, quiet rhythm, and she entered a world of soft, fuzzy dreams. As the witchstorm raged around her and cleansed the people and the land, Orian lay in the small garden, asleep and comforted.

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**Review Responses:**

**KLMeri: **I really wanted to have her join Daemonar too, but I figured since in the book she didn't, I'd better keep it that way. It would have been soooo much fun, though!

**kesterel2106: **Thanks so much! You're probably right, I won't make her Marian's sister. It would be kind of weird and it would screw up my story, lol.

Thanks for reviewing!


	3. Chapter One

**Author's Note: **I am so sorry for not updating sooner! I was gone for about a month doing summer stuff and school started and I was loaded down with homework! Please forgive! Anyway, I wrote half of this before I did the summer stuff and I just finished writing the second half, so it might be a bit weird in the middle, lol! Anyway, thanks soooo much for the reviews! -huggles reviewers- Hope you enjoy the first real chapter!

**Disclaimer**: See Prolouge (Part One)

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**Chapter One**

**Ebon Rih – Riada – Morning Weapons Practice**

As he stretched and opened his wings to the cool, autumn air, Daemonar gazed over the students assembled before him. Technically, they weren't students, and most of them were his age or older, but since he knew more about the art of violence than they did, _he_ was in charge, or at least he liked to think so. Only a few hundred yards away, his father was leading the morning practice routine for the men, and his mother was demonstrating to the women. Lucivar had told him to take the children through an easy practice routine until he could come over and help, and Daemonar was literally puffed out with pride. Normally, Hallevar would have worked with the young ones, but he was currently incapacitated, as Marian had said. What she had really meant was that he was too preoccupied with his new wife, Kalian, to show up for practice. _Maybe he's just too sore from last night_…he thought. At twelve, Daemonar now fully appreciated the meaning of sex, or at least he thought he did, and it gave him a bit of a worldly feeling.

"Everyone stand in a straight line!" He yelled in the general direction of the milling youngsters. A few glanced at him and rolled their eyes, but mostly, they just kept on talking and playing. Feeling perturbed and a bit disgruntled, he tried again. "EVERYONE IN A STRAIGHT LINE! NOW!" He was literally screaming, but it seemed to work. As lethargically as they could, the children assembled in a long, jagged line before him. Apparently, they didn't know the meaning of 'straight,' but as he was lucky they were even listening to him, he wasn't going to obsess over particulars.

After handing out the practice sticks, he demonstrated a basic attack and block exercise. As he went through the motions of blocking and thrusting, he cast a critical eye over those standing before him. Damn. Only a few were paying any bit of attention to him. Among those actually watching were the older males who were trying to learn as much about fighting as possible so they could oust their fathers and older brothers, Hanna, his cousin, who was most likely laughing at him under her breath, and Alanar, who was his playmate when he was younger and his friend now. Alanar's little sister, a harpy if you asked Daemonar, was absently twirling the practice stick in her hands as she watched two other girls play cradle with a makeshift deck of stones and scrap pieces of paper.

"Alright everyone! Find a partner and practice what I just showed you!" he yelled when he had finished the exercise. The children who hadn't been paying attention scrambled to their feet and looked around wildly for someone who had been watching to help them, and after about ten agonizingly loud and chaotic minutes in which many muttered explicit curses at Daemonar under their breathe, everyone had a partner and was stumbling through the exercise. At least, most people had partners. Someone was standing at the end of the line, practicing alone, and he had a sneaking suspicion that it was his friend's little sister.

Orian didn't exactly fit in with the rest of the Eyriens. For one thing, her curly black hair set her apart as a half-breed, someone in whose veins pure Eyrien blood did not run. It didn't matter that maybe one out of five hundred Eyriens was over three-quarters full blooded. Most Eyrien women did, however, have long, _straight_ black hair. Curly was unheard of, and singled her out as a bastard child. And of course, Orian was the only one of the children who was a Queen, and she was the only one, besides for Alanar, of course, whose mother had been killed during the witchstorm. Actually, Dorian was the only one in all of Riada that had been damaged by the storm. It had been a mistake to take the woman and her family into Ebon Rih, and the whole Eyrien community knew it. So the other children kept away from Orian, and he usually did too. If her history and looks weren't enough to scare others away, her snappy personality was. Daemonar truly didn't know how Alanar had the patience to put up with her.

Reluctantly, he walked over to the younger girl and caught her stick with his hand as she was swinging it down in a practice blow. Angrily, she yanked it back out and almost pulled him off his feet. "What?" She snarled, glaring at him. For all that she was only ten, she acted like she owned the whole goddamn realm.

"I'm going to practice with you, since you obviously don't have a partner." He drawled, punctuating the last few words. The hurt in her eyes at once gratified him and made him ashamed of his words, but it was quickly concealed as she squared her shoulders and held her stick at the ready.

As they began to spar, Daemonar found himself having to actually concentrate to keep her from landing a blow. If she wasn't paying attention to him, then how did she know the exercise? Irritable chit. At least she payed attention when Hallevar was teaching. That was little comfort now, however, as today had been _his_ day to lead, and she had completely ignored him. Since his birthright offering, the aggressive nature of a Warlord Prince had been sporadically intruding on his already volatile and competitive nature, and the gentle blows that he had been dealing Orian slowly became stronger and quicker. He thought she would drop back, but she met him blow for blow with an anger of her own. Apparently she didn't like being reminded of her status as an outsider. So, secure that she would continue sparring with him, he focused his entire attention on winning the mock fight. So focused was he that he didn't see many of the other children abandon their own practice sessions and wander over to gather around him and the girl. It was a delicate, precise dance, and one that he had only before witnessed with his father and his aunt. He had never fought like this before, with so much feeling behind him, and it exhilarated him.

His concentration was broken, however, when a loud, angry, and adult male voice, thundered in his ear. "THAT IS ENOUGH, DAEMONAR! Are you deaf?" Lucivar roared as he pulled the sparring stick from his hand. Orian, still intent on beating the shit out of Daemonar, dropped her own stick and lunged at him. Alanar, who was much taller than both Daemonar and Orian, stepped between them and pulled his sister away. Not to be deprived of the object of her rage so soon, Orian tried to bite her brother and return to the battleground, but Falonar scooped her up and placed her over his shoulder.

"Mother Night, Orian! Let it go!" The older Eyrien snarled at her. She shut her mouth and stopped struggling, but Daemonar could still see the hatred blazing from her eyes. Once more he felt slightly ashamed that he had cut into an already open wound, but he soon forgot his feelings when his father cuffed him, _hard_.

"We'll talk when we get home. Go clean up and wait with Hanna." Lucivar muttered as he pushed Daemonar away from the practice field. Hanna, who was seven, followed close behind. As the daughter of Witch, she had inherited her mother's keen perception, and she did not hesitate to focus it on her cousin.

"You weren't very nice," she said, hooking arms with him.

"Yeah, well, neither was she," he grumbled. Shoshanna, or Hanna as the family called her, usually lived at the Hall with her mother, Jeanelle, and her father, Daemon, but she was staying with her Eyrien uncle and aunt while her parents went to visit the kindred of Kaeleer. Even though Jeanelle was no longer the Queen of Ebon Askavi, she was still Witch, and she still had a connection with the kindred that no one was like to have again.

"Just because somebody's not nice doesn't mean you have to be mean back. At least, that's what Grandfather said." Hanna replied tersely.

"Did he? Well, Grandfather's an old… humbug," Daemonar answered, for lack of a better, seven-year-old appropriate word. For the rest of the short walk to the stack of clean towels and his waiting mother, he ignored Hanna's constant chatter and tried very hard not to let the feeling of shame that had been lurking at the bottom of his stomach grow into down right disgust at himself. _He_ was the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih's son, and he should have behaved better. Actually, he should have waited until his father was gone and _then_ had it out with the wavy-haired chit. He would remember that for next time. In the back of his mind, he knew he was actually ashamed for a very different reason, but he decided not to think about that, for it would make him feel much to lousy for comfort.

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"Put me down, you arrogant bastard!" Orian squawked as she tried in vain to get out of Falonar's vice grip. 

"Such language for a little girl," Falonar growled as he swung her over his shoulder and placed her on the ground. Turning to Alanar, he muttered, "Take her home and make sure she doesn't try to attack every male in sight." Her older brother nodded his understanding and took hold of her hand, which she immediately pulled out of his grasp.

"Orian…" he warned in a low voice, trying to steer her away from the practice field so they could take off and head for their eyrie, which was unfortunately very close to the Warlord Prince's abode. Alanar liked the arrangement fine, because he and Daemonar were friends and it was easy to go from one rocky home to another. Orian, however, had a different opinion about their living arrangements. While she liked Lucivar, who still called her Bright Eyes whenever he saw her, she got into so much trouble that the sight of either Lucivar or Falonar, Lucivar's second-in-command, with a scowl on their faces was enough to put her on the edge, and Lucivar's asshole of a son didn't help either.

When they reached the edge of the practice field, Orian spread her leathery wings and sprang from the ground. She was aware of Alanar a few feet behind her, but she put him out of her mind and let the feeling of the cool, crisp mountain air wash away the anger. She no longer felt any pain, or at least she liked to tell herself that, when someone made a snide remark about her heritage. Now, she only felt a burning anger. Actually, when she was fighting with Daemonar, she had felt an odd, gentle coldness creep through her, but she didn't really understand what that meant. Maybe it meant she was numb.

When they reached the eyrie, Endar, who had left the morning practice session much earlier than both Alanar and Orian, was standing outside the front door, waiting for them. He didn't enjoy the time he was forced to spend with the other Eyriens, for even though Lucivar warned them against it, they always found some way to remind him that his family's line was impure, but that his children had the bad blood of their mother, his now dead wife. In the few months that Dorian had lived in Riada, she had been a pain in everyone's side and a danger to her family.

The kindred wolves who lived in the area had often visited the temporary hut that the family had resided in, for Orian and Alanar, according to the alpha female, were "un-mothered pups." Dorian had been unable to accept that the kindred would do her no harm, so she chased them off with craft, and had actually managed to wound a few of the wolves. If she had shown any remorse for intentionally hurting the kindred, she would have been quickly forgiven, but the woman found that she liked the power wounding the animals gave her, and she became extremely violent whenever the kindred were near. This of course aroused the anger of both Jeanelle and Lucivar, which Dorian completely ignored. Dorian also took out her rage on her children in ways that still made them cringe. Lets just say that Orian and Alanar were lucky that they no longer had a mother.

"Hurry and wash up." Endar said as he ushered his children inside. "You have a lesson with Sarai today, remember?" he reminded Orian. Nodding, she hurried to her room and leapt into the shower, all the grievances of earlier forgotten. Orian lived for her weekly lessons with Sarai, a Healer who taught basic craft lessons for young girls. Orian had been taking lessons with her since she made the birthright offering and came away with the Opal. If she had been in Ebon Rih ten years earlier, she would have been taking lessons with Luthvian, Lucivar's mother. But, according to rumor, she had been killed just before the witchstorm was unleashed. Sarai had once been her student, and had now taken over her post. She wasn't Eyrien, and therefore didn't seem to notice the flaw in Orian's appearance, which delighted the young Queen to no end.

As an Eyrien male, Alanar was expected to pick up craft on his own. It was part of the warrior's training that he would receive. While she went to her craft lesson, he would go hunting with other youths his age. Orian had tried to join them once, but she had been rebuffed by the males, who were more than uncomfortable with having a female tag along with them on one of their excursions. This, or course, made her want to learn to hunt more, so she finally convinced Alanar to take her out once in a while and show her what he was learning. Needless to say, her brother didn't tell anyone else what they were doing.

When Orian was dressed and ready, she bolted out of the eyrie and flew pell mell towards Sarai's hut, which was in the center of Riada. She was going to be late, damn it! She landed gracelessly in front of the small wooden house and ran in to find the group of girls in her lesson already sitting in a semi-circle around Sarai as they watched her weave ribbons through wood. They all glanced up with annoyance as Orian entered and quickly went back to watching their teacher. Orian took her normal place at the end of the circle, a few feet away from the nearest girl, and took up the piece of wood and colorless ribbon that was sitting in front of her.

"Glad you could join us, Orian." Sarai said sarcastically. Orian just looked up and smiled at the older woman, who shook her head in mock disgust and continued to explain the process of moving one solid through another. Orian listened intently, and when it came time for the girls to put their knowledge to the test, she was the third one to figure out how to get the ribbon through the wood, even though she had come in late. Craft was comforting to Orian, because it was something she could control. It wasn't going to make fun of her, and it wasn't going to tell her she couldn't do something because she was a girl. When alone, she often experimented with what she learned, which sometimes caused a huge mess in her eyrie, but Endar usually forgave her. For all his anti-social tendencies, her father really _tried_, and she loved him for that.

The rest of the lesson was spent learning how to move various solids through each other. Orian let out a soft sigh of disappointment when Sarai announced that they wouldn't be transfering _themselves _through anything until the next time they met, which wasn't until seven days later. Apparently, she thought that it would be too dangerous to try anything of that sort until her students had had more time to practice the simple things at home. Orian disagreed. She was eager, perhaps overeager, to learn as much craft as she could, as fast as she could.

As soon Sarai announced that the girls could leave, Orian bolted out the door, intending to race back to her eyrie and try moving herself through its stone walls. She pulled up short, however, when someone called her name. Suprised and a bit irritated, she turned around, expecting to see someone scowling or holding up something she had forgotten. The sight of one of the girls from her lesson waving to her suprised her enough to leave her momentarily speechless. The girl, who was the only other Eyrien in the group, was tall and lanky, and had a face that men would kill for in a few more years. Orian thought her name was Havian, but she wasn't sure.

"I thought we could practice together, if you like," the girl said as a smile blossomed on her face. "I'm Javian, by the way, in case you didn't know."

Orian simply stared at her for a moment, letting the words sink in. Since she was seven, no Eyrien had _ever _tried to befriend her. She had a few acquaintences among the Blood of Riada, but none of them had wings, and none of them knew any better when they saw the curly hair that cascaded down her back. So she was a bit flummuxed when Javian came over to her and put her arm over her shoulders. She finally found her voice when the girl began to lead down one of the many crowded streets of the city.

"Surely you have better things to do," Orian said tartly as she ducked out from Javian's arm. As she turned away, the hurt look on the other girl's face made her cringe, but Orian was too flustered to stop. She hurriedly took flight and headed for her eyrie, where she could at least be in an illusion of solitude.

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As Orian lay on her bed that night, trying vainly to let sleep overtake her, she kept replaying the fiasco from that morning over and over in her mind, and she kept seeing Javian's crushed expression as she walked away from her. Rudeness and apathy were walls she had built around herself, but if she made a friend, even an Eyrien one, she would know that someone didn't care what she looked like or who her mother was. And they could practice craft together, something that Orian longed to share with someone. Yes, maybe she should get to know this Javian better.  



	4. Chapter Two

**Author's Note: **Again, please excuse the long time between posts! Homework should be pushed off a cliff into a sea full of famished great white sharks that tear it into billions of little pieces so small that even the most studios professor would spend the rest of my high school and college career trying to piece it back together again. Can you tell I _really_ don't like homework? Lol, anyway, I am sooooooo excited for Anne Bishop's new book, _Sebastian_. I can only pray that it's as good as the DJT! Anyhow, I'm sure you're tired of reading my mindless ramblings, so I'll let you read the story now….

**Disclaimer: **See Prologue (Part One)

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**Chapter Two Ebon Rih – Riada – Morning**

She awoke as the first hint of light began to creep slowly over the horizon. Orian had never been very adept at sleeping in, for she slept too lightly to let even the smallest of sounds go unnoticed. If all of Riada was completely silent for a whole day, she would happily remain in a dream state until late in the afternoon, but when one had a wolf whining in one's ear, sleep didn't like to hang around too long. Orian, however, hadn't gone to sleep until very early that morning, for she had stayed up over thinking and over analyzing the past day's events. This would explain her stubborn reluctance to get out of bed.

"Le' me alone, Mane. Its too early," She yawned, pushing the female wolf's prodding muzzle away as she turned over. The wolf, however, was not too keen on letting the little she-pup fall back into a mindless slumber. So, instead of whining, she barked. Loudly. Orian jumped a few inches off her bed at the sharp sound, and with a dramatic sigh, she turned back to face the wolf and simply glared at her.

_A lazy pup doesn't get the best piece of meat. _Mane scolded. _At least the grass is still wet. _

Orian couldn't suppress the soft giggle that escaped her lips. Kindred did not measure time the way humans did, and according to Mane, if one woke up after the morning dew had dried on the grass, then one was to be considered quite sluggish. Tired of waiting on her charge, the lean, gray wolf trotted out of the room and used craft to move through the walls to the small clearing beside the eyrie.

_I will wait until you are ready._ She sent as she lay down in a patch of grass.

After mumbling under her breath about pushy, unsympathetic wolves, Orian rolled out of bed shuffled into the bathroom. When she had cleaned her teeth and pulled her unruly black hair back so with a tie at the nape of her neck, she threw on a pair of soft, cotton trousers and a ratty old sweater, and tiptoed through the still quite eyrie to join the waiting wolf.

Mane had started visiting Orian right after the girl had just settled into Riada. Her pack had considered Orian and Alanar to be berefit of a good dam, so they often played with the two children. To be more precise, they played with Orian while Alanar looked on. The older boy let many of the wolf pups chew on his clothes and lick his face, but he constantly worried about his sister, so preferred to sit by and watch her instead of joining in on the fun. He, unlike Orian, understood, at least to a point, the contempt with which Dorian held the kindred, and he was scared she would take it out on him and his sister.

The playtimes did not last very long, however, for the small pack was driven away by her for fear of incurring bodily injury. Even after Dorian died, they did not return for many years, for they still felt unsafe. Mane was the first of the pack to visit the children again, and at least once every five days or so, she came to collect Orian to bring her to the rest of the pack. Sometimes Alanar joined them, but usually it was just her. He was too preoccupied with his training to spend too much time "rolling around with the wolves," as he called it.

Orian followed quickly behind Mane as the wolf trotted into the small wood between her eyrie and the next. Because of the early hour, the normally cool forest was quite chilly, and she was glad she had thought to wear a sweater, albeit an old, thin one. When they reached their normal spot, a little grouping of rocks situated against the mountainside, Orian sat on one of the cool boulders and waited for the rest of the pack to arrive.

While she waited, she picked a long piece of grass, placed it between both of her thumbs, and blew. The reedy, quavering sound that it emitted caused Mane to jerk her head up from her comfortable position on one of the warmer rocks and give a wolfy equivalent of an eye roll. Orian laughed and made to blow into her hands again when the rest of the pack materialized out of the trees. Forgetting about her makeshift whistle, she quickly hopped off the boulder and sat cross-legged in the center of the milling wolves. After letting her admire the pups and scratch a few itches, a few of the adult males and females pushed their way to her side.

The three males, Neam, Kalar, and Thrash, and the two females, Mane and Haavi, settled in a semi-circle around her, effectively telling the others in the pack that it was _their_ turn with the she-pup. Every time she visited, the five wolves would claim her for a while, so they could share bits of interesting craft and odd tidbits of information. As she told them about her last craft lesson, she noticed that Kalar seemed a bit distracted, but she decided to let it go. His mate was pregnant, which would explain his constant glances towards the female sleeping a few yards away.

After she finished explaining how to move one solid through another, Haavi punched her foot through a fallen leaf and gave Orian an exasperated look.

Why use craft? What would you need to move through that you can't already? 

"Walls?" She replied, and at the feelings of bewilderment she perceived from her friends, she added, "Trees?"

_Trees are meant to hide and shelter. If you go through them, you defeat the purpose. _

Haavi had a point, of course. From her perspective, one should never need to go through something because in nature, there were no walls to entrap a creature. There were of course mountain faces and canyons and what not, but the wolves figured that they were there for a reason. They all knew how to move through solids anyway, but Orian was pretty sure they had never actually done it. She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a quick snarl. Kalar, his lips curled back in a ferocious grin, jumped to his feet and growled softly in the direction of Teare, his mate, who was walking awkwardly towards a shadier spot. It did not take a genius to tell that she was limping.

Orian slowly moved to kneel beside Kalar and placed her hand on his back to warn him of her presence. "What's wrong, Brother?" she asked, keeping her voice level and calm. Kalar was a Warlord Prince who wore the Sapphire, the darkest jewel among the pack. When she found that he hadn't descended into a cold rage after brushing his inner barriers, she gave a soft sigh of relief. What ever it was, it couldn't be that bad.

Why is she limping? She shouldn't be hurt! She was fine when we came here…someone must have hurt her.

With that last thought he whirled away from her steadying hand and faced the rest of the pack, his body tensed and his fur standing on end. The others stood completely still, unsure of what had brought on this sudden bout of rage and scared that it would lead to a fight. Therefore, it was a surprise to all when he abruptly relaxed. In fact, he looked slightly sheepish.

_I cut one of my pads on a rock. It will heal. _Teare broadcast to the pack and to Orian. Within moments, activity was resumed.

"Over protective," Orian tsked at Kalar.

_If you were worried about her, why didn't you just ask her instead of jumping to conclusions?_  
She added privately. He didn't reply, but she knew the answer anyway. If any human female was pregnant and had suddenly started limping, not only would her husband or consort be at her side within moments, but he would also be filled with a keen anger focused on anyone or anything that had hurt his lover. Come to think of it, males were like that whether or not one was pregnant or a lover…

Shaking her head at males in general, Orian stood up and walked over to Teare, who was now laying with her head resting on her paws and her eyes half closed. "Let me see you're paw," she said, and Teare lethargically complied. The kindred had healers to be sure, but there was not one among the small pack. It was hoped that one of Teare's pups would be born with the gift.

Orian wouldn't be able to heal the cut completely, for while she was a Queen, she most certainly was not a Healer, but she did know how to reduce swelling and protect against infection. So absorbed in her work was she that when a chorus of low growls and snarls rang out from the males of the pack, she almost jumped out of her skin. Before she could react, Teare pulled her paw out of Orian's hands and joined the rest of the pack, who were in the process of forming a protective circle around the females, the pups, and Orian.

"What is it?" she asked to the wolves in general, hoping one of them would answer.

_Strange males. They do not belong here_, was the terse reply given by Neam. When Orian saw who the strange males were, she tended to agree with that description. They were not unknown to her, but she would certainly describe them as strange, yes.

Warlord Prince Lucivar Yaslana stood at the edge of the small clearing with his normal arrogant expression firmly in place. Next to him, his brat of a son stood with wide eyes, his façade of cool aloofness temporarily forgotten as he took in the sight of Orian surrounded by fifteen-odd growling kindred wolves.

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**Review Responses: **

**Silver Sky: **I love your story! Keep writing!

**kestrel2106:** You're right. In the books, her mother isn't all that evil. I decided to make her a meany 'cause it would give me something fun to work with, lol! That's what I love about fanfics! Also, just because someone doesn't like someone when they're ten doesn't mean it lasts forever (hint hint hint)

**shadow hound dancer: **thank ya!

**counterspell: **-worships back-

**Dibs: **Lol! Happy is good!

**nikkila: **Aah, but guilt from being a half-breed can lead to fear, which can lead to anger, which can lead to rage…. Basically I just wanted to make her evil, lol!

**alenasaso: **Wish granted! Hope you enjoy!


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